Travis by Mia Sheridan

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

Travis

 

I’d eventually reclaimed my equilibrium, and we’d spent the remainder of the antique fair sampling snacks from the food trucks on the outer perimeter, and digging through what might be treasure or junk depending on the individual.

It was the best day of my life.

And the worst.

I was still mildly shaken, even sitting in my room after having returned hours before. We hadn’t made any plans and though I longed to go to her, I kind of wanted to wallow too.

There was this distant feeling of happy satisfaction, combined with confusion and discombobulation, similar to the way I’d felt the morning after I’d gotten really drunk at the annual Cinco de Mayo taco and tequila crawl on Main Street. I’d thrown my back out doing the limbo at the lakeshore, and passed out in the sun.

Good times. Great times.

And exceedingly difficult to recover from.

Much less live down.

To this day, I still felt a small twinge in my back if I twisted too far in the wrong direction.

Thank God there was no video evidence this time.

I picked up the thimble and stuck it on my index finger, not able to help the groan of embarrassment that rose in my throat over the ridiculousness of the thing. The tangible reminder of the nervous breakdown I’d had the moment I realized I wanted this woman in my future, and that the chances of that actually happening were slim to none.

Speaking of twinges.

The muffled sound of Clarice’s laughter came from the hall, combined with the thunk of something heavy. “It’s been wonderful,” I heard her say.

Was she leaving?

Oh no, she wasn’t.

Not without providing what she owed me. Answers.

I flung my door open, rushing into the hall to see Betty at the top of the stairs, smiling as Clarice descended, a carry-on travel bag in her hand.

“Wait!” I said, following her.

She glanced back at me, but kept going, only stopping when she’d made it to the bottom, setting her bag on the floor. “Stop accosting me, Chief.”

“Accosting you? I’m not accosting you!” I’d only demanded answers from her twice before when I’d left for work and caught sight of her in the hallway, and both times she’d stealthily evaded me by slipping into a room and flipping the lock.

She was obviously practiced at dodging, likely due to leaving a slew of deeply unsatisfied customers in her wake.

I stood in front of her, reaching out, grabbing her hands and closing my eyes. “Tell me what you see,” I demanded.

“I see a man who’s wearing a donkey thimble.”

“Forget the donkey thimble,” I said, flustered, gripping tighter.

“Honestly, it will be difficult to forget that.”

I opened my eyes, giving her a glare. Her shoulders lifted and fell in a long-suffering sigh. “I gave you two paths,” she said, pulling her hands from mine, picking up her bag and heading toward the front door.

I followed. “They’re the same!”

She turned suddenly and I came up short. “I will clarify one thing for you,” she said, squinting as though trying to put whatever she was about to say in just the right words. “One of the two paths holds deep regret.”

My mouth set. “Wow, so much clearer. Which path will I choose?”

She laughed shortly, turning again and moving away. “Consider it carefully!” she sang over her shoulder, opening the door.

“You’re a quack, you know that?” I called.

She laughed merrily. “Aren’t we all, Chief Hale?” And then the door smacked shut behind her.

I returned to my room where I decided to pace.

I’d never really been a pacer though. Instead, I sank down on the bed. Truthfully, I felt like running away from here whether my house was ready to be inhabited again or not. I scrubbed a hand over my face, realizing I was still wearing the thimble. I removed it with more aggression than was necessary, and tossed it on to the bedside table. It landed perfectly right side up with a soft click, the inane donkey grinning crookedly at me.

My shoulders fell and that instinct to run away intensified. But I’d never run from anything. Ever.

There was a soft knock at my door. I startled, standing quickly and rushing to it, my heart flying in my chest. I pulled it open and Haven stood there, looking shy and a bit uncertain. A breath gusted from my lips.

She’d come to me.

“I wasn’t sure . . . well, I wasn’t sure whether I should knock on your door. That is whether . . . you might want company tonight.” Her cheeks flushed and my heart soared higher to know exactly what sort of company she meant. “Well, so”—she raised the picture I hadn’t noticed she was holding in her hand—“I asked Grandma for her advice.”

I opened the door wider so she could enter, and then closed it behind her. “So that’s what my life has come to. The picture of a dead old lady now stands between me and a night of . . . benefits.” Happiness expanded. She was here.

Haven laughed, considering the photo. “It’s not such a terrible fate. She looks stuffy, but she’s actually very forward-thinking.”

“Grandma likes sex?”

“Very much so.”

My lip quirked as she stepped closer. “This conversation is killing the mood,” I said, even as my body responded to her proximity.

She placed the photo down on the dresser directly to her left, stepping even closer, her gaze sliding down my body. “All evidence to the contrary,” she whispered, reaching down and running her palm over my groin.

I hissed, clenching my eyes momentarily in pleasure. And pain. Knowing that in some way, that was always going to be my reaction to her. “Haven . . .” I uttered raggedly.

Her gaze met mine and she watched me for a moment, the way she looked at all suffering things: with tenderness.

I weaved my hands into her miraculous hair, bringing my lips to hers, tasting her sweetness.

She broke from my lips, dragging her mouth down my throat and nipping softly at my skin. I groaned as she reached under my shirt, running her fingers over my stomach, and splaying her palms over my pecs. Surely she could feel my heart, its tempo swift and erratic. She looked up and met my gaze and for a moment an expression that looked very much like fear flitted through her eyes. Or perhaps it was just my own, reflected in her expression. I was scared. I’d never felt this way.

“Take this off,” she said, her voice whispery and thin. I did as I was told, lifting my shirt over my head and tossing it on the floor, arousal ratcheting higher and subduing the emotional turmoil I’d been experiencing since that moment at the fair. Hell, maybe since the moment I’d first laid eyes on her.

She brought her palm to my chest again, kneading the muscles softly, and using her fingernails to feather over my skin, her gaze focused on the movement of her hands. I groaned again. “That feels nice.”

Without meeting my eyes, she gave me a soft push and I took the few steps backward to the chair behind me, dropping down onto the upholstery.

She did meet my eyes then, her mouth curving as she stepped forward, leaning in, and bringing her mouth to my neck again. She reached for the buttons of my jeans and with an inhale I leaned back, helping her so she could pull them down my legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” I said, and her eyes rose to mine, her expression both shy and sultry.

And I want you to stay.

She ran her palm over my now-straining erection and I sucked in a breath, my head falling onto the back of the chair, my body stretched out before her.

She brought her head forward, kissing down my stomach and using her hand to rub me through my boxers.

“Haven,” I groaned, a tortured sound that accurately depicted how I felt.

“Shh,” she said, blowing on the thin line of hair that traveled from my lower stomach beneath the band of my boxer shorts. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Cruel.”

I felt the curve of her lips as she brought them to my lower stomach, flicking out her tongue and licking downward as she lowered my shorts. I sank down into the chair, giving in to the hot, drugging pleasure of her hands and mouth on my body and the smell of her shampoo drifting up to me as she went down on her knees.

Haven.

She pulled my boxers off slowly and I opened my eyes, our gazes holding as she brought them down my legs, my erection springing free and standing rigid before her. She inhaled a breath, leaned forward and kissed it. I grunted out a gasp, my lips falling open. “You’re beautiful too,” she murmured, just before she bent her head, taking the tip of my cock in her lips and sucking.

“Oh God,” I moaned. Please don’t stop.

She wrapped her fist around my base and lowered her mouth farther, slowly withdrawing and then lowering again. I reached up, grabbing a handful of my own hair and giving it a slight pull. I felt like I might come in mere moments, the sensation of her hot wet mouth in addition to the visual of her lips wrapped around my cock too overwhelming. Too good.

She sucked and teased, driving me half out of my head, my chest rising and falling quickly with every delicious stroke of her mouth.

“Haven.” It sounded like a moan and a laugh and a prayer for deliverance.

She raised her head, releasing me from her grasp and then stood, my sudden despair turning to joy when she pulled her dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

She was naked beneath it.

“Hallelujah,” I said and Haven laughed.

She reached down and pulled something from what must have been the pocket of her dress and held it up. A condom.

“Hallelujah,” I said again. It seemed it was the only thing I was capable of saying at the moment. Because it was the only word flashing in my head.

HallelujahHallelujahHallelujah.

Haven tore the condom open and slid it on, her brow knitted in concentration as she performed the task.

“I stole this from my brother’s drawer,” she informed me. “There’s your vengeance,” she said, meeting my gaze, her lip quirking slightly, teasing.

Hallelujah.

She climbed astride me, placing one knee on each side of my hips and leaning forward, bringing her mouth to mine as I reached down, guiding my cock to her opening. She lowered herself at the same time I pushed upward, her tight body grasping me as I groaned into her mouth and she let out a soft gasp. “Oh God, that’s good.”

For a moment we simply breathed against each other’s mouths, our eyes opening simultaneously and meeting . . . holding. A stillness passed between us, something that somehow felt both weighty and as light as air. It felt effervescent and yet it hit me square in my gut. My heart. Haven’s eyes widened and then she blinked, swallowed, as though she’d somehow heard my thought. Her head tilted, hands reaching for my shoulders and clutching as if she was afraid of falling. She looked . . . she looked . . . the way I might have at the antique fair earlier as my world fell from beneath me. She looked like she suddenly wanted to run, but our bodies were connected, eyes held. “What are you thinking?” I whispered.

She sucked in a breath, giving her head a shake as if to dispel whatever thoughts had put that expression on her face—wonder. Fear. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and she began to move, her eyes falling shut as I watched her. Through the haze of pleasure, I had the strange sense she was running from me, yet we could not have been any closer. I sat up to meet her, bringing my lips to hers and kissing her deeply. Stay. She melted against me, her body relaxing as she continued her slow undulations.

God, it was good. It was sweet and it was hot and I never ever wanted it to end.

She’d said she wasn’t a great dancer, but she could move. I watched her, awestruck. The visual of her slow, erotic hip rolls. The slight bounce of her perfect breasts. The way her internal muscles clenched and slid.

I was going to die of pleasure.  

Her grip tightened on my shoulders and, for a few minutes, she rode me slowly, small, bliss-filled gasps falling from her lips with each downward press.

She leaned back slightly and for a few moments we both watched as the hard peaks of her nipples rubbed against my chest. “Oh, Travis. God. Everything. I just . . .”

Me too. Me too.

Despite the slow rhythm, I felt my orgasm stirring and squeezed the arms of the chair, trying desperately not to come before she did. “Haven,” I gasped, and as if she heard my desperation in that one uttered word, she sped up, digging her nails into my skin, and riding me in earnest.

I moved my hands around her body, cupping her ass and taking some of the weight off her thighs, which had to be aching. The pads of my fingertips pressed into the skin around the place we were connected, slick with her arousal, the juices not only assisting in my effortless glide in and out of her body, but running down her thighs. The knowledge of the extent of her lust caused a dizzying swirl of excitement to cascade through my body, tightening my stomach muscles, and sending shock waves to my cock.

I was lost. No longer in control . . . if I ever had been.

I could do nothing to stop the rising bliss, had no choice but to ride it as it crested and broke, my hips bucking as I came seconds before she did, her head going back as she let out a small scream.

Haven fell forward, her slick skin meeting mine, both of us shaking in the aftermath. Our hearts slammed against one another’s, her breath gusting over my skin and cooling the perspiration that had gathered at the base of my throat. I brought my arms around her and held her close, our bodies still connected. My lips feathered along her hairline as I murmured her name, kissing and soothing her because I sensed that she needed it in some way she would not ask for. We stayed just that way for long minutes, our hearts slowing and reality descending.

“Hallelujah,” I whispered, turning my head and kissing her temple. I felt her smile against the side of my throat.

And though I said the word with some amount of levity, it felt apropos in a way I couldn’t quite describe. There had been something almost . . . sacred about what I’d just experienced. But in the moment, my brain was too clouded with pleasure to think too deeply on that or anything else.

“Hallelujah, indeed,” she whispered back.

 

**********

 

I brought the blanket up over her shoulder and she snuggled in to me. “I love this sexy, green thumb,” I said, picking up her hand and kissing the aforementioned thumb, closing my lips around it and sucking gently.

She laughed softly and I smiled, holding it against my lips for a moment, my vision going momentarily hazy as I recalled the bliss of her lips around a different part of my anatomy. But despite the arousing picture in my mind, my body was heavy with satisfaction and I didn’t think I could have moved if a tornado siren went off, warning of imminent danger.

I could see the news print now.

They were swept away, right along with The Yellow Trellis Inn, paralyzed from too much mind-blowing sex. Or that’s what reports from the other guests say it sounded like anyway, right before the rest of them dove into the storm cellar to save themselves.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze falling on the plant next to my bed, the one I’d talked to on the first night I’d arrived here. Something about the memory of that night brought a measure of what I could only call melancholy. I both hated and longed for the time before I knew I faced certain emotional disaster. A storm was coming. I smelled it in the air like the metallic tinge of an approaching lightning strike. “How will you bear leaving all your plants behind?” I murmured.

How will you bear leaving me behind?

She breathed out a soft breath. “With happiness. I’ll know I leave a piece of myself behind, and that a small corner of the world is better because of it.” She paused. “Maybe you’ll check on the ones here now and again . . . make sure they’re doing okay.”

“I will,” I said softly.

I rubbed her thumb idly along my bottom lip, not wanting to consider that time. The time when she’d no longer be here. “You’ve left your rescue plants everywhere along your path, haven’t you? Even in the place you started out.” Your home. The one that puts sadness in your eyes.

She paused for what felt like a long time. “Yes,” she finally said, as though that one word had required her to muster up something, and what, I had no way to fathom.

Part of me wanted to question her until she opened up, and another part of me knew that was a very bad idea. Still, I didn’t seem able to stop myself from wanting to know more. “Tell me more about it. Your home.”

Again, the pause.

“What’s to tell? We didn’t have things like plants in my apartment growing up. Like I said before, we didn’t even always have food. My mom . . . she struggled with addiction. She’d promise to stop . . . but it never stuck for long. Few of her promises ever did.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Haven,” I said, running my hand along her arm, wanting to comfort her from something that had long passed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

But she shrugged. She felt different suddenly. Closed off. Stiff. And I was sorry my question had done that.

Again, I was conflicted. Part of me wanted the easygoing teasing back. But another part wanted to probe her—force her to share herself with me. Let her know I could handle it.

That desperate feeling rose up, the one that had always tried to control when I felt scared or needy.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m fine now. It’s fine.”

I smoothed a curl back that had fallen over her cheek, but it defied me, bouncing back to where it had just been, resistant.

“Once she went an entire year without using,” Haven said, almost breathless suddenly. “Men had always come and gone. A few of them were decent. The one she was with that year—Johnny—taught me to play checkers. He always had orange Tic Tacs. I can still taste them when I think of him. Anyway, I learned not to get too attached to any of them because it never ended well for me.” She stopped short, a small cringe passing over her expression, her mouth puckering as though she tasted that long-ago orange-flavored memory of someone who had been kind to her, perhaps made her feel she mattered, and then left anyway.

My throat felt tight. Stop pressing. She’s not staying. You won’t benefit from digging up her secrets. She gave her head a slight shake, turning toward me. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Can we rewind a little bit?” She smiled, though it was fleeting.

I hesitated, torn again, but knowing that for whatever her reasons were, she needed to turn away from the memory she’d just dredged up. “Rewind?” I leaned forward, kissing her once on her lips. “To which part? I can think of several moments I’d like to revisit since the moment you knocked on my door.”

She laughed softly, her shoulders relaxing, the crease on her forehead smoothing out. I smiled, raising my eyebrows suggestively, the mood lightening once again. And then I rolled on top of her, crushing her momentarily as she laughed and pretended to choke. I rolled off, grinning as I dragged my lips down her stomach, going lower, as her laugher melted into sighs and then turned to moans.